


It was never about you

by KByrd



Category: The Night Manager (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:25:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KByrd/pseuds/KByrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternative version of episode 6 of the Night Manager.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was never about you

**Author's Note:**

> The Night Manager by John LeCarré is one of my favourite books – I read it not long after it came out and have re-read it numerous times since. It’s far from perfect; the conflict among the varying intelligence factions is frustrating to follow and I’ve gotten into the habit of skipping whole swaths when I re-read the book. But overall, great story.
> 
> I was excited when I heard that Hiddleston would play Pine – he seems perfect for the part. Over the first five episodes, I loved the changes – I would even go so far as to say that the TV series is better than the book. There were niggling aspects that I disliked, but could overlook. Seriously – stealing the kid’s cellphone and making illicit calls on it? Roper’s not going to notice when he checks the bill?
> 
> However, I was really disappointed by the finale. The plot holes, the glaring inconsistencies, the bizarre behaviour, the fast drying pants, the weird ending … argh!
> 
> And the worst thing is, I don’t think that the people responsible for this show really understand what was so haunting about the book. It’s about sacrifice. Jonathan is an ordinary fellow who is willing to do horrible things and destroy himself for an ideal – the faint hope that justice will be served.
> 
> And the original Burr is forced to make an agonizing decision – save his ‘joe’ (Jonathon) and see Roper walk away free and clear or keep the evidence in hopes of getting Roper later but at the cost of letting Roper kill Jonathan. It’s about what good guys do vs bad guys even when he’s not sure what Jonathan would want (considering how much Jonathan has sacrificed to get that evidence).
> 
> As for the ending of the TV series, well, I don’t MIND happy endings, but the wishy-washy, last-minute bad guys coming in to mete out punishment … ahhh … it felt like a last minute tack-on to an otherwise great show.
> 
>  
> 
> So here’s my alternative ending. Spoilers for those who haven’t seen it yet.

Jonathan removes his shades as he walks into the hotel lobby, but regrets it immediately. He doesn’t recognize the young man at the front desk, but he’s keyed up expecting someone to greet him at any moment.

Sure, it’s been years since he was here.

Sure, turnover is high in the hospitality industry, but he was a fixture here, known by everyone on staff …

He crafts stories in his head – what he’ll say to former colleagues if they approach, what he’ll say to Roper …

He trails after Roper as the group is taken up upstairs to the fancy rooms.

Oh hell, Roper is staying – of course he is – he and Jed are staying in the very same suite that Sophie died in. Jonathan is paralyzed for a moment, remembering Sophie lying bloody and motionless on the floor; he remembers rushing up to her body.

He mentally shakes himself. Not the time for a crack in his armor. It’s for her that he started all this and he can’t slip now.

Frisky hands him a key to a suite down the hall. “The hotel’s booked up,” Frisky smirks, not caring if Jonathan (or Andrew) hears the lie. “We’re double-bunking.”

Apparently, he warrants a minder now.

“Fine,” Jonathan nods, fully aware that the Nefertiti is never full.

“It’s a big suite, we’ll have our own bedrooms,” Frisky continues blithely. “Have to come up with a code or something if you want to bring any young ladies up though.”

Jonathan scowls.

“Or young lads if your taste runs that way,” Frisky winks.

He has no cellphone of his own, only the one that Roper hands him during business deals. It’s infantilizing and a sign of growing mistrust, but Jonathan has a few ideas about how to get around it.

He plots.

When Frisky goes into the bathroom (leaving the door open a crack), Jonathan uses the room landline to call the number in his head for Angela Burr’s cellphone and gets her inappropriately cheery out-of-office message.

“This is room 1508,” he says carefully. “I was told to speak to Sophie about breakfast in the morning? No? Ok, sorry for calling. I’ll ask the night manager instead. We’ve just arrived, but I’ve been here before.”

He hangs up cursing himself for being too theatrical, not clear enough.

They go for dinner.

Jed is dressed in her usual floaty, diaphanous attire and it unaccountably makes Jonathan angry. It’s not that he minds her near nudity, he saw enough of her wardrobe when they were at Roper’s villa, but here in Cairo, among the Arabs, it seems disrespectful.

He wishes she would wear something more modest.

He hates that Roper likes her dressed like this; likes parading her around like a trophy.

He looks around and realizes that everyone in this restaurant is a Western tourist, no locals to offend.

He reminds himself to take a grip and pull himself together.

Somehow he makes it through the evening.

 

He eats breakfast with Roper and Jed while the minders, Frisky, Tabby and Felix sit at other tables placed strategically through the dining room.

He doesn’t recognize any of the wait staff and he avoids the hostess whom he DOES recognize. Hama was her name?

It’s a shock when Sandy arrives with Caroline, looking astonishingly cheerful considering the last time they’d all seen her, swearing and storming.

Jed is delighted, rising to kiss her on the cheek and asking about each kid by name.

Roper interrupts. “I need a moment with my young prince to talk business,” he says gruffly. “Why don’t you young ladies hit the souk? Can never have too many pairs of shoes, right?”

Jed looks annoyed as usual when she’s excluded from ‘men’s business, but smooths her face into an expression of interest. “Why sure darling. You want traditional pointy toed sandals?”

She kisses him and bats her eyes seductively.

Jonathan looks away.

Sandy settles into a chair, looking as bland as ever. Roper watches Jonathan thoughtfully over his coffee. “I miss Corky,” he says gently. “I wish I’d known how far he’d gone. I could have talked to him, you know? Told him that traitors can always be forgiven.”

Jonathan swallows down his panic. ‘He knows,’ he thinks.

He forces a light, faintly curious expression to his face. “Of course,” he agrees blandly.

He’s been acting for months, no reason to lose his shit here. Not when he’s so close.

But he can’t help but re-wind the conversation at the camp – have you been practising your magic tricks Jonathan?

How can Roper not know that it was Jonathan who tipped off the Americans? But then why is he still here?

Luckily for him, Sandy is standing to greet a new arrival.

“Freddie!” Roper smiles cheerfully.

The new guy is young, dressed like a playboy in white, his shirt unbuttoned to show off his chest hair and gold necklace. He greets Sandy and Roper with enthusiasm and stretches out his hand for Jonathan.

Jonathan plasters on his very best hotelier’s smile and shakes hands with Sophie’s murderer as if it’s no big deal.

“Welcome to Cairo,” Freddie says pleasantly. “It’s going to be fun, no?”

“Looking forward to it,” Jonathan lies easily.

They drive to a private residence a few miles away to meet the buyers. The front men are men that Jonathan has already dealt with – small, neat, polite, clearly educated in the niceties of British custom. They are, however, surrounded by the scariest guards that Jonathan has ever seen – big, muscular, frowning men with watchful eyes. His impression of them is reinforced in the car by Tabby delighting in telling tales of gruesome punishments meted out by the bully boys.

“They own Cairo,” Roper agrees with a smirk. Jonathan thinks he’s a little jealous. “Deal with all manner of issues – cover up a little murder here, an assault here … No-one gets away with anything with these buggers around.”

The negotiations have mostly been done by Sandy and his team. There are few details here and there to work out, but all in all, they come to agreement pretty quickly.

“What about that incident on the border?” one of the buyers asks. Jonathan is not fooled by the casual way he asks.

Neither is Roper who looks irritated for a bare moment and then pulls himself together. “We had a little internal problem,” he assures them easily. “All taken care of.”

“You can guarantee this delivery?” another of the buyers presses.

“Yes, of course,” Roper assures him, and Jonathan wonders if he’s imagining the pulse at Roper’s throat. He does NOT like to be second-guessed.

Sandy logs in and hands Jonathan the cellphone for him to submit to the iris test.

There’s a pregnant pause and then the computer blips.

“All done,” Sandy announces and the slight air of tension in the room evaporates.

They clap; they drink champagne. The buyers look excited.

“See you in 48 hours,” Roper says grandly, as he shakes hands and claps people on the back.

Back at the hotel, Jonathan finds that he really can’t go anywhere without Frisky tagging along.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he says mildly.

“Dangerous city is Cairo,” Frisky shrugs, not bothering to hide what he’s doing. “Wouldn’t want you wandering around alone.”

He half considers asking what Roper will do with him in 48 hours once this deal is done, but decides that he’s better off not knowing.

He and Frisky go for a walk through the neighbourhood. He buys a snack from one of the street vendors and practises his fledgling Arabic. Frisky makes no comment.

Upon return to the hotel, he sees Burr, heavily pregnant, checking in at the front desk. She’s accompanied by a dark-skinned American who carries her luggage. Jonathan is immediately so buoyed by sight of her that he has to turn away lest his delight tip Frisky off.

Still, he can play the easy going Andrew Birch well enough. He can pretend to be a tourist whiling away the day, without a concern in the world. It’s just acting, and what else has he been doing for months now? They sit on the sun dappled, air conditioned solarium and sip drinks – Frisky’s is non-alcoholic.

They both see the courier at the desk asking for Mr. Roper.

They both watch him head towards the elevator, but neither says anything.

Jonathan tries to draw Frisky out – has he got a girlfriend? Wife? Ex-wife? Hobbies when he’s not minding Roper?

Frisky just smirks and ignores the questions. 

Jed and Caroline return before it gets too hot; they’re burdened with packages. One of Caroline’s guards/minders takes the packages up to the rooms while the ladies join them for a quick drink.

Jonathan wants to warn Jed to be careful, but he has no opportunity to speak privately to her. Frisky excuses himself for a moment to walk over to Jacob, another of Roper’s minders while never taking his eyes on their trio at the table.

Jonathan plasters on a winning smile and turns to Caroline. “It’s so nice to see you,” he says warmly. “I wasn’t sure after …”

She shuts him down with a glare. “Roper made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” she snarls, all pretense gone. Her back is to Frisky.

“You’re spying on Jed?” he asks bluntly. He keeps an easy smile on his face.

Jed looks shocked.

“He said I’d never see my children again,” Caroline acknowledges his accusation.

“Caroline!” Jed hisses.

“If you had kids, you’d understand,” Caroline snaps.

Jonathan makes a ‘steady on’ motion with his hand and she obeys, lowering her voice. “I had no choice,” she says.

She gets up suddenly. “I need a refill,” she announces to no-one in particular, and walks to the bar.

Jonathan leans over to Jed, they have only moments before Frisky returns.

“Do you have your passport?” he asks urgently.

She shakes her head.

“You can go to an embassy,” he tells her. “Get out, ask for asylum …”

She shakes her head. “I want to help.”

“No point in going to the American embassy,” he continues, “It’s like a fortress, you’d never get in the first door without a passport. The British one has moved – it’s across town now, but you could take a taxi … avoid the Canadians, they’re so stupid, they’ll just walk you back into Roper’s clutches …”

“No,” Jed snaps. “Let me help.”

Frisky is on his way back, scowling slightly.

“There’s a package that’s just arrived,” Jonathan says quickly.

“He’ll put it in the safe,” Jed says.

He nods.

“I’ll get you the combination,” she promises.

They stand as Frisky joins them.

Jed stretches. “The heat’s starting to get to me,” she says coquettishly. “Maybe I’ll go find out what my darling is up to.”

The American is in the elevator when they go up to their rooms. He is chatting with another guest who is wearing the same badge, indicating that they’re both attending a medical convention. Jonathan watches him idly, wondering if he really did come with Burr or if his feverish imagination is making him see things. Maybe it wasn’t really Burr at the front desk? Would she come all the way to Egypt in her present condition?

It’s not until he gets to his door and reaches into his pocket for the key that he discovers that someone has slipped something into his pocket. He marvels at the spy’s skills, but reminds himself that these guys are professionals, not like him who’s only taken a six month course and is bumbling along as best as he can.

In the bathroom, he takes out a brand new cellphone, complete with charger and a four digit number on a piece of paper. Thinking of passwords and safe codes, it takes him a moment to realize that it’s probably a room number.

There’s also a small ziploc bag, the size of something you’d put jewelry in, with several capsules of powder.

There are no instructions, but Jonathan has an idea.

They nap through the heat of the day and reassemble in the lobby for drinks before dinner. Roper and Jed are sickeningly tactile, kissing each other and murmuring sweet nothings laced with innuendo.

Jonathan looks away, acutely aware that Jed is acting, that she’s said that she wants nothing more to do with Roper. It’s an act, but apparently Roper is buying it.

Freddie joins them for drinks so there are six of them – Roper and Jed, Sandy and Caroline, plus Jonathan and Freddie. And various minders and bodyguards standing apart, watching warily. They go for drinks, the main party rowdy, ordering champagne and high balls. Jonathan acts his part, forcing down the tension and laughing at the jokes as if he really is a businessman who’s just made a million dollar deal.

Freddie gets sickeningly drunk. He drinks through dinner, openly dabs cocaine on his gums, persuades them to accompany him to a casino after dinner.

Even Roper is distracted, suggesting mildly at one point that Freddie slow down.

Frisky of course does not drink on duty. Not alcohol anyways. But it’s hot in Cairo, even in the air conditioned casino and he keeps a bottle of water on him at all times.

Jonathan can take advantage of that. 

Freddie is crashing about, staggering. He falls into a woman at one point, leering at her breasts. Jonathan pulls him away, not really bothering to hide his disgust.

“Are you married?” Freddie asks him.

“No.”

“I could get you a girl,” Freddie offers, leaning closer, his breath odorous.

“No thank you,” Jonathan says easily. “You might want to call it a night. A losing streak only ends when you stop playing.”

Freddie pushes him away.

“Gotta be some sort of metaphor,” Roper grumbles. “Losing in your daddy’s casino?”

“I’ll play until I say I’m ready to stop,” Freddie says aggressively.

They play roulette. Jonathan is only half watching as Jed puts the chips on the board.

She looks at him with a slight smile playing on her lips.

He takes note of the numbers.

She nods ever so slightly.

Eventually one of Freddie’s minders pulls him away from the game and loads him into a black SUV with tinted windows.

Roper glares.

“He’s going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow,” Sandy observes.

“Just so long as he holds it together for the day after,” Roper agrees.

Jed appears exhausted. She leans on Roper. “Baby, I’m ready to crash,” she murmurs against his neck.

He kisses her easily.

Frisky, too, is rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“I think we might be a little jet-lagged,” Roper agrees. “Shall we go back?”

 

Jonathan waits until he is sure Frisky is asleep before slipping out of the hotel room, padding down the stairwell, and knocking on the door of the room from the slip of paper.

There’s a long pause and he starts to wonder if he’s made a huge mistake. He’s mentally preparing his abject apologies if he’s accidently woken up an innocent guest.

But the door opens and Burr is there, hugely pregnant, looking tired and nervous.

“Oh I didn’t expect you to come all the way to Cairo!” he exclaims, relief washing over him.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Burr teases. She pulls him into the room and closes the door before allowing him to wrap her in a hug. He’s a bit cautious of the bump, but has the oddest feeling of being safe as he pulls her close.

“Nice to see you,” he whispers, fighting not to break down.

“Oh my,” Burr murmurs. “I wasn’t sure if you were ok.”

“I’m not sure myself,” he confesses.

He’s startled as the American steps out into view.

“It’s me you have to convince,” the man says firmly, looking unhappy. “I have my suspicious about you.”

Jonathan disengages. “Sorry, but I don’t know who you are,” he says in some puzzlement.

“Joel Stedman,” Burr introduces them hastily. “American enforcement.”

They shake hands.

“The info you gave us about the trucks was bad,” Joel says bluntly.

“I got played,” Jonathan admits. “Roper was testing and I failed.”

Burr scowls. “How are you still …?”

“There was a leak,” Jonathan explains. “He knew info had been sent.”

“From our end?” Joel asks.

“Yeah,” Jonathan snaps. “I had to kill a man to make it right.”

“Do you need to get out?” Burr asks quickly.

“No way.” He is adamant. Not after everything he’s done to get here. “We’re too close.”

“I can get you out,” Burr promises.

He shakes his head. “But I need your help.”

 

Afterwards, he slips down into the kitchen area. It’s late, most of the kitchen is shut down, but the Nefertiti never actually closes her kitchens. Like most five star hotels, she prides herself on providing for guests at all hours.

Jonathan has already glimpsed the head chef, smoking in the alley. He slips into the back of the kitchen, walking confidently as if he belongs here. It’s quiet of course. The kitchens are open, but not busy in the middle of the night. Staff are cleaning, sorting, doing inventory, re-stocking …

The chef’s eyes light up when he sees Jonathan.

“Shh …” Jonathan shakes his head discretely. “I’m looking for Yusef,” he says carefully. “Are you Yusef?”

Yusef himself scowls in puzzlement, but nods.

“I heard you were the one I should speak to about a recipe?” Jonathan says carefully, remembering the coded words from years back.

Yusef leaves his station and leads Jonathan back the way he’d come.

It’s not until they’re in the stairwell that they embrace enthusiastically.

“Look at you!” Jonathan laughs. “Head chef!”

“Just at night,” Yusef ducks his head, a shy grin on his face. “NIGHT head chef. But you! What happened? You left so suddenly …”

“Yeah,” Jonathan gives a half shrug.

They clasp hands.

But Jonathan has little time for niceties. “Is your brother, Ahmed well?” he asks bluntly. “Is he still … involved? In the whole …?”

Yusuf scowls. “What are you talking about?” he asks evasively.

“You know what I mean,” Jonathan presses.

“They had their chance and they blew it,” Yusef says tightly, looking bitter.

“I might have a way …” Jonathan says carefully.

Yusef uses Jonathan’s new phone to call his brother. They chat quickly in Arabic, too fast for Jonathan to follow the conversation. Then he hands the phone back to Jonathan.

Jonathan wastes no time. He outlines what he needs and checks that Ahmed is willing. Secrecy is critical here and they’re on a tight timeline.

Yusef embraces him again and goes back to the kitchen while Jonathan goes back to his room. Frisky is still sleeping the dreamless sleep of the drugged.

 

They have another day to kill. Roper and his party go to the Pyramids.

Jonathan has been before. He squints in the bright sunlight and brushes off the hordes of souvenir-sellers.

Caroline buys postcards.

Jonathan puts his pickpocketing training to use and sneaks his own Roper-supplied cellphone out of Sandy’s bag. Foolish of him to bring it, but Sandy likes to keep such items on his person.

Jed fans herself theatrically; the ordinary Cairo residents are glaring at her or sneaking surreptitious peeks. She’s wearing her usual inappropriately gauzy, revealing blouse and high heeled sandals that make for hard walking in the soft sands near the Sphinx.

“Do I have to?” she complains mildly to Roper. “I mean it’s been here forever, it will still be here in twenty years if I want to come back.” She pouts.

He kisses her temple.

Caroline takes pictures.

Jonathan tries to make small talk with Caroline. “Will your kids be jealous? Hearing that you’ve been to see the Pyramids?”

She shrugs. “They’re at school,” she answers.

Boarding school, he thinks. Men of Sandy’s class will always put their children in the very best schools England has to offer and that means boarding school.

They take a private tour around the Pyramids and get close enough to the Sphinx to touch the smooth, newly renovated stone.

“Rebuilt,” Sandy explains pompously. “Not original of course.”

“Soldiers shot the nose off,” Roper grins.

“How disrespectful.”

They get in a car and drive to other side of Cairo for an elegant private lunch at a different, but no less luxurious hotel.

Frisky is not feeling well. Jonathan watches him grimace and press a hand to his side. Cramps. Whatever was in the powder isn’t nice to the digestive system.

Jonathan excuses himself to go the bathroom and Frisky follows rather eagerly.

As soon as they are out of sight of the main party, Jonathan pauses and lets himself get distracted by a painting in the hallway. Frisky can hardly order him into the bathroom. Instead he scowls at Jonathan and dashes down the hall.

Jonathan goes in the other direction, slips through a door into a private meeting room. He locks the door and pulls out both cellphones. First he downloads an app to the Roper phone. It takes longer than he’d like and he hopes to hell that it’s not triggering a message to anyone.

Then he uses his own phone (the one Angela gave him) to log into the bank site. For some reason, the process requires two devices. He glares into the biometric window on the Roper phone and gains access to his account.

From there, it’s a simple click and the money is gone.

According to the settings, there are no warnings set up so he’s reasonably sure that no-one is getting an email at this moment alerting Roper to the transfer.

And then he slips back into the dining room and joins his companions.

“You’re an odd duck, aren’t you?” Sandy says mildly.

“Hmm?”

“Always look the waiter in the eye. Stack the dirty dishes. Must come from being in service.”

Jonathan tamps down his irritation. Men of Sandy’s class always look down on servants and employees. As if they could function without their army of little worker bees …

But he shrugs. “I was in the trade,” he agrees. “Call it professional courtesy.”

“But you never waited tables, did you?” Sandy sneers. He makes it sounds like turning tricks.

Jonathan smiles. “Of course,” he says. “It’s rather an important part of the apprenticeship.”

Sandy sniffs.

Jonathan remembers when waiting tables was the best source of income he had.

They wander through a tourist market on the way back to the Nefertiti before heading to their rooms for a nap.

“I hate this place,” Frisky grumbles as he collapses onto the couch in their suite. “Food doesn’t agree with me, it’s too fucking hot, the women are covered up from head to toe, and the men are all damn crazy …”

Jonathan shrugs, not willing to engage in a political discussion. He naps instead, waking frustrated and angry from a dream where Roper confronts him about using the forbidden cellphone. Angela is there in the dream too, standing behind Roper looking disapproving.

**

 

It’s late, close to midnight when he slips out of his room to meet Joel in an alley behind the hotel. Angela is there too as he has suspected, but he has his argument ready.

“They know me,” he argues. “They trust me. I can’t show up with strangers.”

Angela is unhappy, but Jonathan can tell that she’d expected his protests. 

Joel glares but climbs into the second car.

Jonathan drives the rented or borrowed minivan to a prearranged spot and picks up Yusef, his brother and a small group of rag-tag young men. They are wary of Jonathan, but Yusef has laid the ground work.

They clasp hands and Jonathan practices his careful Arabic. The young men grin at his accent and slap his back and shoulder.

He drops them off on the other side of high fence and Jonathan drives in the main gate, flashing his documents and passport. The guards glance in the back, but don’t search the van. It’s stupid – there are so many hidey-holes, but these guys aren’t expecting trouble. Jonathan drives out of sight and picks up the little gang who have snuck through the fence.

His heart is pounding. There are so many ways this could go wrong, but at each step, he is lucky. The men get out, haul the lead lined boxes out of the hiding places under the seats and get to work.

Jonathan stands guard, idly smoking a cigarette.

**

Jonathan wakes at dawn to the sound of Frisky’s cellphone ringing.

He squints at the clock by his bed. Early.

“Ya boss, no problem,” Frisky says clearly.

Jonathan climbs out of bed and enters the sitting area looking curious.

Frisky is half-dressed, his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder. He glares at Jonathan.

“Boss says not to wait for him,” he reports. “You can eat breakfast with Sandy if you want.”

“We’re still going out to the … ah … place?” Jonathan asks.

“Far as I know,” grunts Frisky. He leaves.

Breakfast is a quiet affair with Sandy and Caroline. When it’s over, Sandy puts Caroline in a taxi and waves her away.

“No Jed today?” Jonathan observes casually.

“Apparently not,” Sandy shrugs. “Roper says she’s not feeling well. Egyptian food, you know.”

Roper appears, looking well dressed and somewhat enervated. “Let’s get this show on the road, hmm?” he says rubbing his hands together.

They retrace Jonathan’s steps from the night before, Roper flashes the selfsame documents (that Angela has somehow snuck BACK into his safe) and his passport at the gate. The guards are different from those at night and no-one makes any careless comments. They park and walk across the hot dusty asphalt to an old warehouse.

All seems fine.

Roper is preoccupied, but not unduly so.

Then they reach the warehouse and Tabby flings the door open.

Jonathan squints in the dimness. There’s a chair – bare and lonely – sitting under chains hanging from industrial tracks in the ceiling.

He has a very bad feeling about this.

“I trusted you,” Roper says calmly, but his face is anything but friendly.

Jonathan takes one cautious step backwards, confused for a moment.

The other bodyguard grabs his arm.

“Your cellphone if you please,” Roper says tightly.

Jonathan considers saying ‘no’ for just a moment. Considers pointing out that he doesn’t have a cellphone because Roper doesn’t let him have one.

But he takes one look at the hard angry looks on the three men and reaches into his inside jacket pocket for the black case.

Roper takes it, examines it silently, and then drops it on the ground. “Tabby?”

Tabby stomps on it with his spiked heel boots and Jonathan winces as the screen cracks.

The two guards each grab an arm and Roper punches Jonathan in the stomach.

It’s so unexpected that he has no time to react.

Instead, he doubles up, grunting as pain explodes in his gut.

The men drag him inside and throw him bodily into the chair.

“I trusted you,” Roper hisses angrily. “I invited you into my home … disregarded Corky’s instincts ... fuck you … Corky was right wasn’t he? ... And Jed?”

Jonathan shakes his head. “I haven’t done anything,” he insists, but softly.

“Don’t bother denying it,” Roper growls. He pulls out his own cellphone and shows Jonathan a picture.

It takes a moment for the image to sink in.

Jed, her hair wet, face bloodied, mouth gaping open.

Jonathan lunges at Roper. “You sick fuck!”

The guards wrestle him back.

“Don’t touch his face,” Roper orders them. “In fact, strip him down – I don’t want too much blood on those clothes. Got to dress him up pretty for the performance …”

“Roper!” Jonathan cries out. “She had nothing to do with anything!”

“She confessed,” Roper snaps. “Everything. Including the hotel … you think you can fuck my girl and get away with it?”

Jonathan freezes.

Roper sneers. “Have fun boys,” he says. “Like I said, leave his pretty face alone, but what you do to the rest of him … well, it’s not like I care if he limps out of here. Not like I care if he can’t ever get it up again.”

 

**

Roper walks out of the warehouse and closes the door behind him. He can hear the scuffle, the gasp as someone hits Jonathan. He’s shaking with anger. He stands on the quiet almost deserted patch of dessert and looks out at the sand.

He shakes a cigarette out of a packet of illicit smokes. He quit years ago, but just now seems a perfect time to take up the habit again.

Behind him, he can hear a cry and the rattle of the chains.

He’s angry. He’s worried. How much has Jonathan said? And to whom? The leak to the Americans looks more sinister now. And Corky’s death … He mourns. Corky was loyal to the end and still ended up in a shallow grave.

He spies a puff of dust on the road and checks his watch.

He bangs on the door. “Time’s up lads. Get him dressed and cleaned up.”

 

**

Jonathan emerges, dressed, but bent over at the waist.

Roper leans over him. “Understand this,” he says coldly. “Everything is a whole bunch easier if you stand up and play your part. But you’re not indispensable. If you fuck this up, I’ll kill you here and now.”

Jonathan glares at him.

As promised, Roper’s men have left his face untouched, but every other bit of him is screaming in pain.

“As added incentive, if you fuck this up, I’ll have Frisky kill your girl Jed,” Roper adds. “But play your part and I’ll let her go.”

“People say anything under torture,” Jonathan says, his voice husky. “You have it wrong – she knows nothing.”

Roper glances over at the approaching car.

Jonathan eases up, brushing imaginary dirt from his suit. There’s blood on the wrist of his white shirt where the chains have rubbed his skin raw.

“Be a man,” Roper sneers. “Or does that joke hit a bit low? Too early, hmm?”

Jonathan grimaces, but he has enough pride to stand up a little straighter.

“As it turns out,” Roper continues idly. “I have an agreement with Frisky. Gotta check in with him every so often or he … ah …” Roper smirks. “And heavens, look at the time … I need to call before Frisky does something you’ll regret.”

He pulls out his cellphone and punches in some numbers.

“Hey Frisky,” Roper says lightly. “Is my girl still there? Put her on would you.”

Roper holds the phone up to Jonathan’s ear.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Jed rasps in his ear. “I’m fine …”

“Jed …” Jonathan starts to say, but the phone is pulled away.

“That’s enough of a lover’s chat, don’t you think?” Roper says with false cheeriness. “Talk to you again darling, if your boy here behaves.”

Sandy and Freddie get out of the car that has just arrived. In the distance, the party can see puffs of dust as a convoy of cars approaches the gate.

Freddie is bouncing happily on his feet and looking delightfully cheerful. He glances back and forth between Jonathan and Roper apparently sensing some tension, but asks no questions.

“Good day for a deal, huh?” he says happily.

“Couldn’t be better,” Roper agrees warmly.

They walk slowly over to the trucks parked in neat rows.

Jonathan is grateful that the distance is not too far. He’ll be sore tomorrow, he thinks. Then he remembers that there likely won’t be a tomorrow in his future.

The convoy of cars parks and the entourage gets out shaking hands and smiling and looking excited. Jonathan plays his part as well as he’s ever done. He smiles smoothly, he laughs at a joke, and assures the partners that all is in order.

Sandy sets up his laptop at a table.

The bully boys climb into the trucks and search the goods, checking boxes at random and moving things around.

Jonathan prays that his late night team buried the stowaway boxes well.

“All good,” the leader declares, jumping down from the last truck. The engines rumble and the trucks depart slowly, travelling in a long line.

“Let’s do it then,” Roper says genially.

Sandy logs in, the buyers do their part.

Then Sandy hands Jonathan his cellphone.

Roper narrows his eyes at him.

Jonathan has one more arrow in his quiver. Maybe a second if Angela and Joel are able to save Jed.

He positions himself so he’s facing the group and swipes his thumb on the small screen of the phone. The new icon pops up and he types in the code.

“What are you doing?” Roper asks him, his voice still calm.

Jonathan makes a show of opening his eye and looking carefully into the screen.

Behind him, the trucks are stopping and the drivers are jumping out of their cabs and running away.

“What are they doing?” Freddie asks in confusion.

The buyers are standing and watching the drivers run away.

Roper growls and lunges for Jonathan but he sidesteps him just as one of the trucks blows up with a whoosh. Then a second one, then a third and like fireworks, the contents in the back of the trucks are blazing and sparking.

“You bastard!” Roper snarls.

“What in the world is going on?” one of the buyers is crying. “Our goods! Our trucks!”

Sandy is trying to placate them.

The bully boys are menacing; the buyers are furious.

“How could you let this happen?” they growl.

“Bad security,” Freddie stammers, looking shocked. “I will have their heads!”

“Fuck that!” one buyer says. “We need to get out of here. The police and every security system in Cairo will be here investigating those explosions.”

“We want our money back,” one of the other buyers says calmly and his menace is all the more threatening for how calmly he says it.

Sandy looks uncertainly at Roper who looks furious, but nods.

Sandy logs in on the laptop and taps a few keys. The screen flashes red instead of the usual green. Sandy frowns and tries again. He taps the keys a little harder.

The buyers glare.

Sandy is sweating. “Uh boss,” he says uneasily. “Small problem here.”

Roper grabs Jonathan by the neck.

“You can have the money back once I know Jed is safe,” Jonathan says quickly.

The buyers are glaring at Roper who lets go of Jonathan and tries to look calm. “Little computer glitch,” he says blandly. “Nothing to worry about.”

The bully boys have the car doors open and are motioning to their charges to enter.

“The money,” one buyer snarls.

“You’ll have it,” Roper promises. “Just need to sort out a little computer problem. Meet us at the hotel in half an hour.”

The convoy leaves.

Roper grabs Tabby’s gun and aims it at Jonathan.

“If you kill me, you’ll never get the money back,” he says calmly.

Roper twitches. “Might be worth it,” he says. “Who the hell are you? Who are you working with?”

“No-one,” Jonathan lies.

Roper waves the gun. “There’s no way this turns out OK for you,” he argues. “No scenario where you survive.”

Jonathan shrugs.

“Boss,” Tabby says softly. “Those guys weren’t wrong. We should go before the cops show up.”

Roper lowers the gun.

His jaw is clenched. He looks as furious as Jonathan has ever seen him. Sandy packs up his gear.

“We’ll figure it out at the hotel,” he says soothingly.

Roper sneers at Sandy and Jonathan takes advantage of his moment of inattention to lunge forward and grab the gun.

Everyone yells.

When the dust settles, Roper is on the ground; Sandy is under the table. Both guards have their guns out aimed at Jonathan who climbs slowly to his feet with the gun in his hand. He cocks it slowly.

Freddie just looks shocked at the turn of events. He does nothing.

Jonathan looks at him. “Do you remember Sophie?” he asks softly. “Sophie Alekan?”

Freddie squints.

“That whore …?” he says in confusion.

And Jonathan shoots him.

He aims for his torso, not bothering with the trickier head shot. Not bothering to waste time with pointless conversation.

Several people yell. Jonathan swings around and aims the gun at Roper.

Freddie is on the ground, clutching a fatal wound, gasping for breath.

“Holy fuck,” someone says.

“It was NEVER about you,” Jonathan says, aiming at Roper. He squeezes the trigger.

The gun clicks but does not fire. Tabby tackles Jonathan and wrestles the gun out of his grip. The other guard kicks him in the head and he sees stars.

“Stop, stop!” Roper commands furiously.

Jonathan lies on the ground, gasping, his sight blurry.

“This is about a girl?” Roper says furiously. “This is revenge?”

Jonathan says nothing.

“We can’t stay here boss,” Sandy says urgently. “I see cars coming.”

Everybody looks at Freddie’s body sprawled in the sand with his life’s blood seeping into the sand.

“Back to the hotel,” Roper orders.

They drag Jonathan into the car with both guards while Sandy and Roper take the second vehicle.

Jonathan rests his head against the window and concentrates on breathing. Whether he has ruptured something or whether he’s crashing as the adrenaline leaves his body, he’s feeling worse now. He presses one hand against his ribs and winces as they shift.

He can feel blood or sweat trickling down his back. Every breath hurts.

Neither guard says anything.

They park at the back and Jonathan climbs creakily out of the car to stand with Roper.

“Every penny,” Roper growls at him. “I might even let you live.”

Jonathan snorts. “We both know that’s not likely,” he says.

He’s having trouble walking. Tabby grabs his arm and hauls him more upright, but Roper waves him away. “He can get there under his own steam,” he sneers.

They’re in the hallway, Roper pushes the button for the back elevator, when Jonathan catches sight of movement on either side.

“Freeze!” several voices shout at once. They are suddenly surrounded by armed men in black tactical gear. Everyone puts up their hands; Jonathan winces as he does so.

The police line them up against the wall and frisk them, relieving Tabby and Jacob of their guns. Surprisingly, Sandy also has a small gun tucked into his pants at the back. The police confiscate that as well.

“There’s been a mistake,” Roper says calmly, patiently. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I’m a lawyer …” Sandy warns them.

“No mistake,” says a cheerful English voice.

Everyone turns to see Angela, tiny, pregnant Angela step through the crowd. “Stand down Jonathan,” she says lightly. “You’re not under arrest. What have they done to you?”

Roper glares. “Who are you?”

“I’m your nemesis,” she answers cheerily.

Jonathan puts his hands down but can hardly stand. He’s woozy, holding onto the wall. He leans against the wallpaper. “Jed …” he whispers.

“She’s fine,” Angela assures him. “Safe and sound.”

He doesn’t see her move, but she’s by his side now, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Get a medic,” she orders. “And take those three away. They’re just hired guns.”

The men in tactical gear do as she says. Only a few stay behind, training their guns on Roper who ignores them.

“Whatever you think you’ve got on me, it won’t work,” he says arrogantly.

Angela is distracted by Jonathan. “Do you need to sit down?” she asks gently.

He shakes his head grimly.

“Ha!” Roper snorts. “Won’t be wanting to sit for a while, will he?”

Angela glares.

“He’s a little banged up,” Roper continues. “Won’t be able to service anyone for a while. Tough luck for Jed.” 

Angela scowls at him.

Roper turns to the men with guns. “You know Freddie Hamid?” he asks clearly. “Course you do. Everyone knows Freddie Hamid.”

The men glare at him behind their black masks but say nothing.

“He’s dead,” Roper says clearly. Then he repeats the phrase in Arabic with a clear, but presentable accent. “Freddie Hamid - mayit.”

Angela snorts. “Don’t bother,” she says. “They’re here to arrest you, not discuss your influence.”

“He killed him,” Roper points at Jonathan. “What do you think will happen when the Hamid family finds out you let his killer walk free? Huh?”

Before anyone can say anything, there’s a commotion at the front of the hotel. Someone screams hysterically. There is yelling and the sound of people running heavily, their boots thumping on the marble floors.

Angela looks uncertain for a moment. Then, the bully boys from the deal gone bad come crashing into their party.

They don’t wait, grabbing Roper unceremoniously and flinging him bodily into the wall. He cries out in surprise and pain.

Several men are waving machine guns around.

The two men who were working with Angela are yelling back in Arabic.

Angela yells too – leave him alone! He’s in British custody!

Someone grabs Jonathan’s arm, but he shrugs it off and stands up straight. “Inshalla,” he says clearly, Yusef’s Arabic lessons coming back to him. “Blessed are the righteous.”

One man pins him against the wall and points a gun at him.

“I am on the right side,” Jonathan says calmly in Arabic. He’s in too much pain to be anything but calm. “I am one of the brothers – helping your cause.”

The man hesitates.

“What I did today was all part of the plan,” Jonathan says in plain Arabic.

“What are you saying?” Angela interrupts.

“The money is gone?” one man asks.

“To a good cause,” Jonathan agrees. “But I’m just a solider. He’s got plenty to spare.” He points at Roper.

The man turns and nods to his compatriots who grab Roper and unceremoniously hustle him back through the front entrance of the hallway. He yells furiously as they half push half drag him through the elegant lobby.

“You can’t do this! I’m Dicky Roper! Someone call the embassy!”

The two policeman look confused.

“Don’t let them get away!” Angela tells them firmly.

“We cannot,” one of them explains.

“They have more power,” the other nods.

“Where are they taking him?” Angela says furiously. “What are they doing?”

Jonathan slides down the wall, leaving a faint smear of blood on the wallpaper. “I have a feeling he’s not going to a nice place,” he grunts. “He’ll be screaming for his mother in no time.”

“That’s NOT how we do thing,” she snaps.

“It’s what he deserves,” Jonathan smiles. “Justice.”


End file.
